CB I Hate Perfume, Burning Leaves. The scent of October. The promise of harvest and of a slow descent into winter. The way the air would change, becoming slightly cooler and take on the smell of fires made by neighbors burning fallen leaves and branches. My friends and I raking leaves with our sole goal of creating the biggest pile of leaves possible so we make repeated running dives into the pile and roll around in it until we smelled of dirt and dead leaves. Smoke from chimneys as the first fires of the season were lit. Waking up in the early morning hours to close the window because of the cool night air coming in through the screen. Breathing the smoke-tinged cool air as I shivered, closed the window, then returned to bed. Playing pick-up football games in a friend's front yard until it was dark and we were all late for dinner.